Such bright stars, who shine in the darkness, but will the darkness notice them?
Dune Lark has said it well.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Waiting Zone!
So, what is there about waiting that is so hard?
Yep, we are waiting. It seems like an eternity, but it has only been since May the eight. That is when we signed on the dotted line. We agreed to their counter offer, and supposedly, we were to close no later than June 15th, which has come and now is gone.
The contract breaker date for knowing about financing has been reset so many times that neither we nor the sellers any longer talk about it. We were told, via email, Eureka you have been approved for financing, but wait for it. Yes, that is right the other shoe, which is the actual closing.
No one, not the closing company, the mortgage broker company, our agent, their agent, them, or us knows when, or, even, if we will ever actually close. I mean, is it possible to be forever buying a home, but to never buy the home?
Why do I feel stuck in an old rerun of the Twilight Zone? Is anyone out there? Help, please find us and take us out of this Waiting Zone.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Hakiu on the move
Surrounded by opened boxes of our lives’ ancient relics (photos – some of which we no longer even know the names of the people, animals, places, or occasion – old knick-knacks, memorabilia, and just plain junk) we separate and pack away again.
Or we place stuff not to be repacked in the growing piles; one each for Sally Ann, and various friends to whom we will give our valuable treasures, and one each for recyclable, and just plain old trash to be tossed. Is this all life amounts to, piles of stuff with memory only value attached?
I have many more times than once gone through this process when moving to a new place. It is always a melancholy experience. One cannot help but feel some kinship to the treasure in piles that signify life lived and gone.
Must one always toss away stuff with the attached memories? Will the memories return after the artifact of the memory is gone to some nowhere? Nevertheless, alas, it becomes a simple practical process; we cannot avoid moving what is not truly valuable, as we are paying for the move. That old twirling baton, or that old antique dresser that belonged to mother, must be worth their weight in coins, else off with them (with apologies to Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, aka, Lewis Carroll ).
However, as unsettling as this pre-move purging process is, it does not have the true sadness of the similar process when a loved one passes. I have helped with this more than once. It is truly sad to know that all the physical stuff that comprised one’s life is of so little value to the living. Must life always be reduced to piles of stuff?
Wait, my spirit says, all this process is the prerequisite for moving onto to a more hopefully situation. In this case, our final, I hope, retirement place; a home we truly love already.
And, so it is with the life lived and gone from this plane. They are already there, in a much better place seeing face-to-face, no longer in darkness but with light shed on all life’s important questions, and truly do not need their old useless stuff.
Therefore, it is right to give or throw most of it away. The rightful owner no longer needs it to make their life have meaning, as they have arrived at the place where all the physical of this life has no value at all in the light of the true meaning of a life well and faithfully lived.
So, open, sort, and pack
or pile shall be my task with
a new found smile all the while
(with apologies to Hakiu poets everywhere.)
Or we place stuff not to be repacked in the growing piles; one each for Sally Ann, and various friends to whom we will give our valuable treasures, and one each for recyclable, and just plain old trash to be tossed. Is this all life amounts to, piles of stuff with memory only value attached?
I have many more times than once gone through this process when moving to a new place. It is always a melancholy experience. One cannot help but feel some kinship to the treasure in piles that signify life lived and gone.
Must one always toss away stuff with the attached memories? Will the memories return after the artifact of the memory is gone to some nowhere? Nevertheless, alas, it becomes a simple practical process; we cannot avoid moving what is not truly valuable, as we are paying for the move. That old twirling baton, or that old antique dresser that belonged to mother, must be worth their weight in coins, else off with them (with apologies to Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, aka, Lewis Carroll ).
However, as unsettling as this pre-move purging process is, it does not have the true sadness of the similar process when a loved one passes. I have helped with this more than once. It is truly sad to know that all the physical stuff that comprised one’s life is of so little value to the living. Must life always be reduced to piles of stuff?
Wait, my spirit says, all this process is the prerequisite for moving onto to a more hopefully situation. In this case, our final, I hope, retirement place; a home we truly love already.
And, so it is with the life lived and gone from this plane. They are already there, in a much better place seeing face-to-face, no longer in darkness but with light shed on all life’s important questions, and truly do not need their old useless stuff.
Therefore, it is right to give or throw most of it away. The rightful owner no longer needs it to make their life have meaning, as they have arrived at the place where all the physical of this life has no value at all in the light of the true meaning of a life well and faithfully lived.
So, open, sort, and pack
or pile shall be my task with
a new found smile all the while
(with apologies to Hakiu poets everywhere.)
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Easter Rain
We expect, or at least hope, that Easter Sunday will be a day full of sunshine. This equates with the day that the Son shines bright in our life.
Alas, here in the rainy Pacific Northwest, it is raining at 7:30 a.m. this Easter morning, and has been raining all night. It should not surprise me that, this is the weather; but somehow it seems to take away from Easter or maybe not.
The Pacific Northwest is a place of abundant greens. There are more shades of green here than browns in the desert. It is a land of great beauty with the ocean on one side and the mountains on the other. Everyone who lives here knows that eventually the sun will shine again, and it will be utterly gorgeous when it does.
The cross, as is the “more” book of Romans chapter 5 in the Bible, is more. The more that comes after the darkness is dispelled. Just as the sun transforms the rainy gloom into beauty, so does the Son banish the darkness and bathe our lives in glorious light; light with an infinite number of different hues of glory tailored for every one of us.
So celebrate; whatever rain and gloom might be in your life, eventually, just as here this morning in the Pacific Northwest, it will clear up and the "Sonshine" will break through, and what a day of celebrating that will be.
Alas, here in the rainy Pacific Northwest, it is raining at 7:30 a.m. this Easter morning, and has been raining all night. It should not surprise me that, this is the weather; but somehow it seems to take away from Easter or maybe not.
The Pacific Northwest is a place of abundant greens. There are more shades of green here than browns in the desert. It is a land of great beauty with the ocean on one side and the mountains on the other. Everyone who lives here knows that eventually the sun will shine again, and it will be utterly gorgeous when it does.
The cross, as is the “more” book of Romans chapter 5 in the Bible, is more. The more that comes after the darkness is dispelled. Just as the sun transforms the rainy gloom into beauty, so does the Son banish the darkness and bathe our lives in glorious light; light with an infinite number of different hues of glory tailored for every one of us.
So celebrate; whatever rain and gloom might be in your life, eventually, just as here this morning in the Pacific Northwest, it will clear up and the "Sonshine" will break through, and what a day of celebrating that will be.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
doctor doctor doctor; is the doc in?
All thought about in the fashion of Catch 22 or Major Major Major.
Finally I am getting to see the kidney doctor in the morning; OK here is the fancy name for kidney doctor -- nephrologist. Getting to see this elusive bird, with three appointments rescheduled by her office, is about as difficult as spotting the believed to be extinct ivory billed woodpecker, or like getting surgery for a hip or knee replacement in the land of the frozen chosen (for those not in the know this means our neighbors to north, Canada).
I should be ecstatic, however, my unbridled enthusiasm is severely tempered by the requirement to get up at 6 am and drive 30 miles one way for the appointment; then to have the joy of various bodily fluid samples required on demand.
Why is visiting with the medical profession such a stressful and often humiliating occasion?
Ah well better this than another visit to the worse than doctor person -- the dentist. The need for dentist has to be a direct result of the snake and apple escapade.
Finally I am getting to see the kidney doctor in the morning; OK here is the fancy name for kidney doctor -- nephrologist. Getting to see this elusive bird, with three appointments rescheduled by her office, is about as difficult as spotting the believed to be extinct ivory billed woodpecker, or like getting surgery for a hip or knee replacement in the land of the frozen chosen (for those not in the know this means our neighbors to north, Canada).
I should be ecstatic, however, my unbridled enthusiasm is severely tempered by the requirement to get up at 6 am and drive 30 miles one way for the appointment; then to have the joy of various bodily fluid samples required on demand.
Why is visiting with the medical profession such a stressful and often humiliating occasion?
Ah well better this than another visit to the worse than doctor person -- the dentist. The need for dentist has to be a direct result of the snake and apple escapade.
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